Shall I Compare Thee Novels & Stories

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Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

“That’s—” “She compares everything to you,” I cut in softly, not aggressively, just enough to keep control. “The way someone laughs, the way someone talks, the way someone leaves a room…” His brows pulled together as I made the silence linger on. “…she measures it against you.” His lips parted slightly, like he was about to interrupt—but he didn’t. So I kept going. “She tries not to,” I added. “But it happens anyway.” His gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again.

“It’s stupid.” I walked toward the bed, and stood in front of her, wedging between her legs. Her fingers curled around my wrist as I cupped her cheeks and whispered, “If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” “You see her in me, don’t you?” Her question caught me off guard. My lips parted in shock, because I hadn’t expected her to ask this. I hadn’t prepared for this. She went on, “All my life, I’ve been compared to her. My eyes. My hair. It’s just... I’m the shadow that reminds everyone she’s gone.”